Words of Underlying Love
by Once Upon An End
Summary: Neville and Hannah had always put it past themselves to think of one another as more then acquaintances. Until certain events unfold and put them in perspective of what love really is. Series of one-shots. Challenge, extreme fluffy-ness. Reviews loved.
1. Contretemps Under the Maple

Hey everyone!

I'm taking a little break from working on chapter 3 of Though I Know That It Never Can Be, and writing this little challenge.

Again, this is edited by **keelhaulrose**. How she puts up with my overuse of commas and spelling mistakes, I'll never know (XD).

It's "Dictionary Divine" challenge by Bookwormofmassiveproportions.

I was given three words and said I'd write a Neville/Hannah fic.

My three words were; Gambol, Contretemps, and Chaff.

I decided to do three non-corresponding oneshots on their relationship.

First up; Contretemps  
-An opportune or embarrassing situation or event.

_~&~_

_There's something to be said about warm Hogwarts days. The feel of a beating sun above you, soft lush surreal grass beneath you and the giggles and laughs of fellow classmates around you. The fact that you could be here, in this moment, forever, and feel like you'd never age. That life before you could be filled with as many twists and turns as anyone could muster, and the past a fiery pit of destruction, whereas that would not matter because it's hard to imagine anything else but the present.  
_  
That's what Hannah Abbott was thinking as she lay on her back beneath one of the many trees decorating the grounds of the beloved school. Her shoes were a few feet away, thrown off as she lay down, stretching so that the sun's rays could reach even the secluded places between her toes. She had lost time long ago, and knew only that the sun had been directly above her for a while now. Somewhere in that time her eye lids had begun getting heavy and she had therefore closed them, enjoying much more warm light on the pieces of flesh.

Hannah stretched her arms away from her side, instead folding and placing them behind her head. She could hear few intelligent mutterings in this place she had chosen, as she was much too far away from the general Hogwarts population to be seen or heard. Or to see and hear others. The spot was perfect, as perfect as the day she had found it her very first year. She had told no one of her spot beneath the growing maple. Not even Susan or Ernie heard of where she went when she said cheerfully 'I'm off to the library!' She tried not to think of this as being selfish; because truly, she wasn't. Like most others, Hannah often required that one place to think or let go. People like Justin enjoyed flat rocks by the lake. Susan frequently prized the extremely lumpy old armchair that was always shoved-off in the corner of the Hufflepuff common room. Ernie, different also, chose to fume in the nook of to the left of the Charms corridor, behind a tapestry. But Hannah? She enjoyed the towering maple, and its growing wildlife around her. She preferred the shadows of nature to the confines of a stone castle made of magic.

It was odd that she was here at this moment. It had been a long time since she needed the stress release that the maple provided. She was, admittedly, a stressed person by character, often resulting in shaking. And the harder she shook meant the more tensed her nerves were, or the more potentially catastrophic the situation was. Sometimes, when Susan shoved her into a chair just to keep her from falling, she would look like one of those muggle-toys that wound up, then, upon release, shook up and down very fast, vibrated almost until they slid off a flat surface. At first her best friends had been worried, seeing her act in such a particular fashion barely a week before their very first exams, but after they had come to expect it, knew what food to offer, or what suggestions to give. She was never one to feel right with such stability in other people, but she would sheepishly admit that having friends like the ones she had found was both unique and rewarding.

However even to best friends like her own, there were some secrets to which she could not bring herself to mutter. She could tell them just about everything, what classes she was worried for, how stressed she was for her family, how much she missed home, and even to complain about certain students or faculty members that sometimes made her life a little, like most teenagers would say, unbearable. Still there were some longings she couldn't tell. Certain stories she couldn't even think herself without blushing, if not at her own wishes, then at the unlikely possibilities themselves. Growing up with two older sisters, Hannah had always accepted being a little overshadowed. She herself was the only offspring her mother and father had that had picked up the magical abilities her mother was given. Unlike most would think, this gave no edge of competition for attention with her other siblings. They were treated equally, mostly, and although she did not mind in the least, as she loved her sisters dearly, she often felt underappreciated. It was not a serious matter; she was loved by many and knew that, truly, she was valued as much as her sisters were. But it was thoughts like these that rushed to her head when she thought of _him._

_He_ was someone she could never trust herself to talk to. _He_ was someone who she raised upon an unreachable ledge, torturing herself with the unlikely odds of ever being anything to _him_. _He_ was the reason that she shook so much these days, why a simple cute scuffle of feet, or his small chuckle at a friends joke could make her feel like she was one of those muggle-toys. _He _was the reason her most favorite place in the world, lately, had been the ever-faithful Maple.

But he was someone she could never have. He was as untouchable as the rest of the closed away world. Admittedly, he was not the most popular. Nor the most experienced, and hardly the most concentrated. Although he was also charming, in his own special way. Like how he would always think carefully before choosing words to add to a conversation. The way he would always, if he could, help someone he noticed needed help. The way he could catch her eye right before an exam and with a lopsided grin make every nerve even out and cease her shaking. The way that he could make her think of him, only him, without even muttering a word.

Hannah groaned and moved her arms from under her head so that they lay over her eyes. _This is ridiculous_ she thought cynically to herself. _Nuts_. The boy had hardly held a full conversation with her, let alone be willing to give her a second glance. He would never think of her in _that_ way who would? He was cute. He was smart. He was caring. He was—

He was on top of her.

"Oh my goodness Hannah, I'm so sorry!" Neville Longbottom spluttered from his position, clumsily fallen on her.

_Well then._

She had to say, even if she should feel completely uncomfortably in this rather compromising position, it took everything just to try and keep the blood from rushing to her cheeks. Her body felt like it did right before she started becoming anxious, before she started shaking. It felt like her nerves were all on some hotwire circuit, and at this moment, every point Neville's body touched her own seemed to be on ultra-sensitive.

"I-Erm, I me-mean," she managed to force out of her mouth, the dreaded-blush creeping up her neck at her ever-so witty comment. She felt the situation extremely satisfying, yes, but also unbearably embarrassing. A complete contretemps.

"Gosh, Hannah, I didn't mean to fall onto you like that!" Neville said, removing himself from on top of her. She instantly felt the cold sun return to drench her skin and robes.

"I was only running towards the greenhouse to get the Potions essay I was working on before next period," he said, standing over her and pointing to the north, where you could see the tops of the structures looming over some of the smaller trees.

Hannah felt the blood rush to her face once more as she managed to get out an "oh, really, it's perfectly alright" and was _sure_ she had the same shade of a tomato when he offered his hand to help her up.

She liked the feel of her hand in his when he pulled her up. She liked the way his were just big enough to cover her own, and how they were soft, but not too soft. She like the way he brushed his hand against her own when they let go.

"What were you doing under there anyway?" Neville asked, shrugging towards the Maple, while looking at her shoes which still remained near them.

Hannah smiled, a tinge of rose still coloring her cheeks. "Oh, I was just... you know, thinking..."

"About what?" He sounded perplexed.

"Everything." She responded simply.

"But... why would you want to think under here? Didn't you get lonely?" he inquired, looking off in the distance to where you could see the colored blobs of the rest of the students of Hogwarts.

"Not particularly," she shrugged. "I mean, sometimes you just need to, you know _think_. Sometimes, when you need to tell someone your thoughts, the right person to tell them to is yourself."

"Wow. That's pretty deep, Hannah" he smiled, as she resisted the urge to grin at the way he said her name.

"Naw, I mean, everyone has a spot like this, don't they?"

"I don't know... I never—wait, yeah I guess I do too," Neville responded thoughtfully.

"See? Only, now you've got to show me _your_ thinking place," she said playfully, feeling one side of her mouth turn up in a grin.

"What? I don't think so Abbott," he gasped in mock shock.

"It's only fair, you got to find mine!"

"Yeah, but _that_ was on accident."

"Please?" she asked, trying to fight a smile and putting on a pleading face. She could hardly imagine that only minutes ago she was dreaming of simply having a conversation with this boy. Now? Now it seemed almost as if they were, well, _flirting_.

"Oh, fine. But only if you promise I can share this one," he responded, looking up at the clear blue sky.

"Deal," she grinned happily.

"I've got to go Hannah, Potions soon and Snape would _kill me_ if I was late"-he shuddered-"but I wouldn't forget about what I said. We'll talk later okay?"

Okay? _Okay?_ Okay wasn't the half of it. Talk later? Bloody brilliant!

"Okay, no problem Neville" she said enthusiastically.

Neville moved the weight of his body to one foot, seeming to contemplate something. Hannah could see the thoughts in his head debating, and remembered this was one of the things she had always loved about him, he thought every action through,

Coming upon a decision he quickly hugged her, so fast she barely felt his body head before he let go and broke off running in the direction of the Greenhouses.

"Later, I promise!" she heard him shout.

_I promise_ she repeated, looking up at the trusted maple, realizing just how much she owed the tree.

_~&~_

See, isn't that just _adorable?_ I love Hannah/Neville.

More one shots on the way~

PS; I hate the title of this fic, so if anyone has any ideas, REVIEW.

And if you don't, review anyway.

;D


	2. Frolicing at the Picnic

Hey everyone! I was on a trip and so didn't get to update recently. I hope this makes up for it? Hmmmmm?

**Keelhaulrose** is my hero (;

But, here's the next one shot, one more then it's done. These one-shots at least...

So here it is; gambol – To jump about, play, frolic

_~&~_

"It's been an entire year, can you imagine it?"

Neville Longbottom looked up startled as his girlfriend spoke. They had been laying on a soft grass field for almost an hour now, just eagle spread on their backs, with fingers intertwined. Neville couldn't remember even apparating here, or where 'here' was. Then again, most of the time he spent with Hannah was focused solely around her. Things had an odd habit of fading away when put in contrast with her beauty.

"A year?" he asked, confused.

She sat up and nodded her blond locks flowing behind her in the slight breeze. She turned her head and shifted her body so that she could look in his eyes. It was with a pang Neville saw the blue orbs almost in tears, water spilling only slightly over the edges.

"A year," she whispered again, still looking in his eyes, one droplet of water escaping and sliding a graceful path down her rosy cheek.

At this Neville sat up himself, shifting so that he was directly in front of her, not breaking their eye-contact. He took her hands which were lying in her lap and rubbed them soothingly.

"Hannah, what are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

She looked down allowing the tears to _plop_ down on her lap and on her hands enclosed in his. She remembered, oddly, when he first had done this, all the way back to carefree school days. When she had not even thought about what laid beyond the castle walls, or what horrors could arise. Days when she could close her eyes and see nothing but what she wished to see, where at night she could sleep peacefully. Unlike now where behind her eyelids were flashes of a battle she was forced to relive everyday of her life. And dreams were twisted into nightmares, in which her mother accused her of not being there when she had been killed, for not being there to save her, for just never being there.

"Don't you remember?" She looked up again and saw confusion in his careful brown eyes, which too had suffered too much for their years. She knew they saw different horrors, but horrors no less, of past traumas. "It's May second. One year today."

Dawning comprehension colored Neville's face. He now understood this new wave of emotion Hannah had experienced. He, himself, felt a wave of shame at his forgetfulness, and remorse at the memory of losses each person who had battled received. Whether the losses be those of life, loved ones, or sanity he knew that everyone had walked away from Hogwarts, one year ago today, with both victory and pain etched into their minds. Pain that would forever be branded into their memories and dreams. Pain he was surprised Hannah was now showing, as she had never before opened up to him of her memories the night had burned her with.

Neville pushed a strand of hair, as gently as he could, away from Hannah's face as the tears still found their way to her lap. She didn't look up from the hem of her robes. Whether it was because she didn't want to, or couldn't, Neville wasn't completely sure. But he sat there with her, just comforting her, just using soothing words and touches trying to make her better, but not rushing. You couldn't keep so much bottled up for so long and rush the process for it to relinquish. You couldn't fight the world alone for so long and finally, when someone was willing to help with the strain, completely give up. It took time to loosen your grasp less and less. It took time and trust. Something Hannah and Neville were still growing into, but had both wanted, and still did want, eagerly.

With a sniff Hannah looked up again slowly, her head going back as she blinked at the sky.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, still refusing to look Neville in the eye.

Neville almost smiled at this. It would be completely like the blond to more-or-less go through a complete break down, the first he could safely assume she had experienced since a year ago; the first time since the battle she had dared trusted someone else to see how hurt she had become, and then to apologize for it afterwards.

"There's no need to be."

Hannah frowned a little and finally looked away from the sky and into deep brown eyes, her blue ones a little confused, as if feeling like she missed out on a joke. So maybe he didn't keep the humor from his voice.

Neville sighed as he tried to form his thoughts. "What I mean is… Well, everyone at Hogwarts, one year from today, left with some sort of scar—"

"—oh, ha-ha—"

"— You know what I mean!" he said rolling his eyes at her reference to the red mark on Harry's forehead. He wasn't inducing that everyone had been put through what The Chosen One had gone through.

"Anyway," he continued, "Everyone left Hogwarts a little worse for wear, and everyone suffered for it… Just at different paces…"

Neville trailed off, his thoughts in different directions. He wanted to emphasize how she wasn't alone, but didn't want to hurt her by saying she was over reacting, minimizing her situation. He wanted to help her, not hurt her. He couldn't figure out how to word it. How could he possibly try to explain to her how he understood? That sometimes, without control, your head just re-plays one of your classmates falling, and not getting back up. Or seeing the boy you spent the last 7 years of you life being friends with carried from the woods lifeless in someone's hands? How can you get over something like that? How can you possibly explain to another that you can comprehend it in the first place. How could you comfort someone, tell them it's fine, it's over, when in your head you worry every day something like that might repeat itself at hurt that very person you love. How?

"What I'm trying to say… I mean—"

"—I think I understand," she said quietly, breaking off the ramble she knew Neville was going to go off on. She understood the motive that he was stuttering over; he wanted to make her feel better. It seemed as if that's all Neville ever tried for around her, to make her happy, contented, to please her in whatever way he humanly could. It was sweet, and it made her feel cared for and protected. But it also pleased her that he was someone who could allow her to take care of him as well. She knew that if moments previous, roles were reversed and Neville had been the one having a minor breakdown, she would be trying to tell him it's okay. That he doesn't have to do everything alone, that he has people who love him very much. Herself included.

She smiled ironically, "It seems were both a little worse for wear today. It's only natural I suppose… But I think we should floo some people tonight… just to make sure they're okay…"

At this Neville grinned. Of course Hannah would want to make sure everyone else was okay. She was Hannah after all… She wanted to be certain everything was okay with everyone else before she could possibly move on herself. She would make up a silly reason, that she needed to borrow a recipe from Susan, she'd stop by the joke shop on her way to work tomorrow to check everyone there, and she'd even make Neville himself to call his grandmother, and make sure everything was all perfect with her. Neville chuckled out loud, Hannah was so taken with his Grandmother, and she with her, that Neville sometimes wondered if his grandmother would have rathered a Hannah instead of a Neville growing up. In fact it was on her suggestion he had invited Hannah for a picnic today.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, moving back on the blanket to snuggle into his shoulder, twisting her head to look into his face.

"Everything. This has been a really weird afternoon. I forgot why I brought you here for a while there" he smiled. He couldn't keep a grin off his face.

She laughed. "And here I just thought you wanted to spend time with me…"

"Oh, I do. But it was on alternative motives that I stole you away."

"Really? Do tell, I might have to draw my wand; you're starting to sound wicked." She giggled as she played along, putting her hands inside her robes to draw the holly wood.

Neville caught her hand and directed it away from her pocket and instead intertwining his fingers with hers. She looked up to his face again and raised one eyebrow.

"Oh, so you really do wish to do awful acts with an unprotected innocent girl? Here in the middle of no where?"

Neville snorted. "Hardly. But I don't want you to be armed, just in case your answer is 'no'…"

"My answer to what?" she asked perplexed.

Neville looked at her then gave another lopsided grin, the one that use to make her heart break. "Stand up."

"Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "My grandmother is going to bombarge you with every detail, do her the small favor and let me do this right. Please?"

Completely baffled, Hannah untangled herself from her boyfriend and stood, so she loomed over him. There were tons of thoughts flying through her head, none of them more coherent then the others. What could Neville _possibly_ be up to?

Neville rummaged for something in his pocket, but as soon as he got it out kept it hidden from her eyes. He then heaved himself in a kneeling position at her feet, took a deep breath, and held up a small satin black box in one hand.

Hannah gasped as he opened it to reveal a golden ring with a delicate dimond cradled in it's center.

Neville looked into her eyes. His face brought back some nostalgic to Hannah, as it reminded her with the look he had when he had too quickly raised his hand in class and was now questioning if he had the right answer to the statement asked.

"Hannah Abbott, will you, for both my safety and sanity, marry me?" he asked nervously.

She didn't give him time to blink, as she through herself on top of him, crying and laughing.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she squealed, kissing every part of his face she could find, and latching on when she found his lips.

They had a few moments of kissing before Neville broke off to place the ring on her left hand. It fit.

"This may sound really cheesy, but that's actually my Mum's ring. My grandmother's before her. I could have got a new one, but I just thought you'd like this one…" he looked at her hopefully.

He giggled, still over-joyed. "I _love_ this one."

"Good," Neville grinned.

"Now, Mr. Longbottom, my _fiancé_ who do we tell first of this wonderful event?" she asked playfully.

He groaned.

"Gran. She _insists_. She's the one who gave me the ring in the first place, told me if I didn't ask you to be my wife, she was going disown me. Obviously I can see who's _her_ favorite…"

They laughed.

"Don't worry about it. We've got time. Plus I haven't seen your grandmother in a while…" Hannah smiled serenely.

Neville laughed and kissed Hannah again. _His _Hannah. His fiancé, soon to be wife. _Mrs. Hannah Longbottom…_

"Oh," Neville remembered something. "When we go to Gran's, I've got to warn you, ignore the comment's she'll be making about kids… Always a 'step ahead' as she says…"

Hannah laughed and kissed her soon-to-be husband again. Cherishing this moment for all it's worth.

It wasn't until much later Hannah and Neville finally untangled to apparate to Mrs. Longbottom's, where she sternly warned her grandson to take good care of the girl, lest he lose her, and where she, as Neville predicted, told Hannah of her wanting great-grandchildren before she passed. At which Neville and Hannah laughed about later, when they arrived home to discover three owls on their doorstep informing them of Bill's and Fleur's baby Victoire. Victoire for victory. And as they both fell asleep together, embraced on the couch, and butterbeers on the table, they thought the exact same thing before drifting off, that on days like that day, when pain and suffering was imprinted on everyone's mind, it's the love that shows as everyone, and everything goes on. That life goes on. That love goes on.

* * *

End LOVES reviews (;


	3. A Chaff at a Wedding

Heh… Sooooo… the whole updating thing…WASN'T HALF-BLOOD PRINCE AWESOME?… :)?

Warning; the following is horribly cheesy and over all a very fluffy ending to an extremely fluffy work.

**Edited by ****.com/SirMikeyB**** who is awesome.**

* * *

_Chaff_

-To make fun of someone in a good-natured way; tease.

_~&~_

His veins felt as thought they had been ejected with boiling water, pouring through is arms, sputtering and pounding down his legs, making his head expand light-headedly and ending up in his stomach where the boiling liquid weighed down, shooting up butterflies as though out of Longbottom felt like he was going to be sick.

Every single thing that could possibly go wrong, he imagined that it would. What if he tripped? Fainted? Got Hannah's name wrong at the altar? What would happen if she ran away? What if she started realising her mistake of choosing such a clumsy, silly man and just left? What if a huge storm came and blew the entire set-up away? Or if no one showed up?

Oh yes. He was definitely going to be sick.

The white tent around him seemed to close in, suffocating his already shrinking lungs. He was just about ready to reach in for his wand when fingers closed around his, stopping him from blowing up the place in haste and worry.

The fingers were old, but strong. He had grown up with those fingers, scolding him, brushing tangles out of his hair, putting his father's old wand in his hands when he first went to school, tears in her eyes that she later refused had been there…

"Now, straighten yourself up. That's it, let me see you," Neville's Gran swept around him, her piercing gaze sweeping over her grandson's robes and hair.

Neville felt faint. Just seeing his Gran in her fancy dress robes and hat brought down the crushing realisation that yes-this was going to two years since he had asked Hannah to be his had flown by in a flurry of decorations, invitations and planning. It seemed like only yesterday he had accepted the position at Hogwarts and she was applying for a job at the Leaky Cauldron. Their lives had consisted of working, planning and spending time with those they loved- as much as they could; second he thought of how lucky he was. How much he had to be thankful for. He loved the woman he was about to marry, with all his heart.

But that still didn't stop him from wondering if she was apparating away from him at this very moment.

"So, ah, Gran," he squeaked (quite literally, too.). "How's, erm, Hannah doing?" Neville's gran cracked a rare smile. "Holding out just like you."

He almost fainted of relief. At least that's one less thing to worry about.. Still. It didn't exactly calm him down.

"I'm doing the right thing, aren't I?" he heard himself ask. Neville turned and faced the window.

The Sun shined happy and oblivious of petty things like negative emotions. It stood pompous and attention-seeking, high in the sky. It held itself above mortal affairs.

Smart Sun, Neville thought.

His gran, unbeknownst to Neville, shed a tear behind him.

Memories of a past wedding date came to her. Rushing from the past with a bitter note of nostalgia.

"_I'm doing the right thing, right mum_?" _Frank asked. He twitched nervously and fixed his collar once again, practically tearing the thing out in the process. _

_She frowned and stated the obvious; "Frank. You're going to ruin your collar. And I don't trust yourself with the spell to fix it."_

_In response, Frank Longbottom pulled on his collar. His mother sighed. _

"_Of _course_ you're making the right decision." she said, Frank looked up. _

"_How… how do you _know_ though?" he asked quietly._

"_Because," she stated as if it was the silliest question in the world. "You're nervous. If you weren't nervous, then you wouldn't love her. If you weren't scared, it means you would be absolutely certain -like _accio_ will send you objects- you would be so sure that she loved you. And only people who don't understand love would think that."_

_Frank nodded, as if this made perfect sense._

_Or perhaps he was simply soothed by the sound of her voice. The voice that had sung him lullabies. The voice that had scolded him. The voice that loved him._

Mrs. Longbottom closed her eyes. It was on few moments that she felt the holes in her heart so fully. Pulling and tugging, they attempted to tear her apart. Two matching holes for two people gone that she loved.

Sure, others too had come and gone, making her insides like acid, making her question the goodness of the world around her.

But the two worse holes were the holes that took away the souls of those she loved, that loved each other, but let their bodies remain in working-order. A mockery.

Quickly she whipped away the silver paths from her eyes and opened them to her grandson's back.

"Your father asked the same thing," She said quietly.

Neville stiffened but he didn't turn around.

She recounted what she had told her son, to her grandson.

When she finished, she thought briefly of how the boy -rather man, for he was a man now- in front of her was created of such a love that he now felt for another girl.

She thought of the circle of life. She thought of how it ended too soon, too frequently. She thought of how many grandmothers had to raise their grandsons because of war and hate. Too many, surely.

She thought of hate and anger. She thought of how she had seen too much. She thought of love. She wondered if one could destroy the other- or if it was rather like mixing oil and water. The two couldn't mix together, one would always rise above the other. It was the question of which was water, and which oil.

And finally she thought of all the people who suffered from both. She thought of the problems that arrived from each. She thought of everything and nothing and it all felt like too much yet, not enough at the same time.

"You know," Neville said suddenly. "I was really worried after I proposed, that I wouldn't find a best man. I stayed up night after night worrying, 'who would I ask? Would they say yes?' It felt like a big decision. A big question; but the answer wasn't there."

Neville turned around and looked at his grandma, the woman who raised him.

"And then I figured it out. The one who I wanted to be my best man couldn't be it. And then I knew that, my best man would be my dad."

He walked up to her and encased her small, strong hands, into his big weak ones and leaned down and said.

"Thank you. For forcing me to use his wand, for being like a mum and a dad. Thank you for fighting me, for loving me and" -he laughed- "for telling me I was never good enough. Just, thanks."

He dropped their hands and enclosed her in his arms.

Mrs. Longbottom closed her eyes. His wand dug into her neck, but she ignored it. She hugged her grandson back with all the love of her, his mum, his dad and the entire world combined. She felt their love for him course through her and let it soak through her skin and onto his. She let it race up his veins and into his heart. She let him be loved, as he was loved.

---

Hannah Abbott was a calm person.

Hannah Abbott was a collected person, who's ideas were even organized and placed in a fashion that made sense.

Well, usually.

"I'm. Going. To. Faint." she whispered breathlessly to her maid of honour as she clutched on to Susan's shoulders.

"Get off, Hannah!" the maid of honour hissed in a very un-maid-of-honour sort of way.

"Susan, get me out of here. I'm going to throw up- oh my gosh," she gripped onto her best friend's flesh even tighter.

Susan was not impressed.

"Hannah, you're shaking a state. Come on. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You're getting to that alter if I have to drag you out there myself."

Sometimes, it really sucked having a best friend.

Because best friends always know what's right.

And, that does truly and honestly suck.

"Susan. Susan. Tell me I'm going to be alright, tell me this is normal. Tell me this all makes sense," Hannah whispered, clinging on to both the words coming out of Susan's mouth and Susan herself.

"You're getting married- of course this doesn't make sense. For Merlin's sake! But that's why you're doing it, yeah? Because it's a mistake and you love him, and all that sort of stuff. I'm not a romantic like you Hannah- I don't know!" Susan threw her hands up in the air and planted herself on the ground.

Hannah slipped down beside her, loosening her grip and letting the tidal wave of dress float around them both.

They starred at it together.

It's all your fault, Hannah thought glaring at the innocent cloud-coloured fabric. It had lulled her in with it's beautiful promises- the whole wedding idea had. It whispered sweet things like 'invitations, pretty dresses, pretty flowers, good food'. And she followed it stupidly.

Why did this have to be so hard? She loved Neville- clearly. But why did all this have to happen. Why was she shaking so much, so nervous? Why were butterflies not fluttering around, but eating her stomach as a whole?

She had felt fine and ordered until Mrs. Longbottom had popped in and left. Her mind had been occupied with silly, pointless mutterings until she remembered there was someone actually _waiting _at the end of the organized alter.

Why did love have to be so complicated? Why were there ceremonies that forced her to promise that she loved someone else in front of people? Why?

Susan gripped her friend's hand as if it answered the questions.

Maybe it did.

Hannah squeezed Susan's hand back.

At least she wasn't alone.

---

Mrs. Longbottom was a little startled to find the bride and maid of honour grouped together on the floor in her return.

"Errr, dear, it's time," she said in an off tone, breaking the calming silence.

Susan looked at her friend, as if expecting her to go off and start screaming about how unfair this all was- as if it hadn't been Hannah who squealed to her every night for the past two years about how _lovely _an afternoon it was going to be.

For the sake of Mrs. Longbottom and her best friend, Hannah rose silently and headed towards the door.

She bent down and kissed her soon-to-be grandmother-in-law on the cheek.

Augusta smiled.

As they made their way to the lush grass, where the ceremony was to take place- Hannah calmed herself by looking at the maple leaf in her bouquet. She imagined other moments she had with Neville. And she imagined briefly of the moments to come. She smiled to herself.

As if in response, the wind breathed lightly through the trees and grass. It lifted her hair as if to chaff her for her former worries. It chilled the warm summer air lightly and kissed her cheek as it made it's way across the ground.

The wind gave a slight heave to the awaiting groom. It whispered in his ears the worries of the bride. It raised his head and- as the breeze paused, the groom's eyes connected to that of the bride's. Finally as if in relief, the wind let go of it's breath and reassured them both that the world was happy.

The wind had seen many things, it had moved many things, it had been the cause of many ship wrecks and deaths. But today.

Just perhaps for today,

The wind let love shine through.

The world let, for today, love be the oil and hate the water.

Hannah and Neville smiled.

_________________

**I said it was cheesy (:I'm sad that this is over- but it was about time! And I've already got another Hannah/Neville fic going (:**


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